


Untitled

by jenaimarre



Category: The Smiths
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 13:18:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3069557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenaimarre/pseuds/jenaimarre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is fluffy pre-relationship stuff. Johnny is already in love, and it hurts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> I've never ever ever ever posted a fanfic anywhere before today. Please forgive me.

A London date saw the band return to a stubbornly unhospitable hotel. The lobby walls encroached on Johnny as he and the band entered, and an uncomfortable damp seemed to characterise the furniture. The receptionist announced that a room had been booked for them - a single room, with two double beds. They sighed in bitter resignation, all save Morrissey, who stood dumb-founded and glaring.  
'May I be of assistance?'  
'....There are four of us,'  
'Yeah, and you've got two double beds. Two times two is four. It wasn't you who booked the room, and it wasn't me, love, so take it elsewhere,' was the nonchalant reply.

Upon entering the room, no pleasant surprises were to be had. Mike flopped on to the small sofa, searching for a TV remote. Andy chucked his suitcase onto the bed nearest the door.  
'Me 'nd Mike'll share. Shit,' he muttered, sitting at the foot and discovering with dismay that the bed was closer to rock than to mattress. Morrissey sat dejectedly under the light of the only window with a book, on their bed, but upright and with his feet on the floor; he was clearly tense. Johnny didn't look at him. Needless to say, Morrissey was never jovial, but Johnny did feel like his presence was the reason for the current mood, and it kind of hurt. Shifting the blame to the god-awful hotel, he kicked the wall, and joined Mike in front of the TV.

A few hours found the four of them absent-mindedly drifting to bed. Andy was wearing a dressing gown; the heating was meagre, and Johnny shivered in his thin t-shirt, not benefitting from the body heat of his friend as he lay half off the bed itself, frozen with anxiety. 

With a jump, he awoke from a slumber he'd doubted he'd ever enter. He glanced at the clock: just past four. Johnny realised he was considerably warmer than before, and his mind slowly registered the world around him - he was on tour, at a hotel in Hammersmith; that light was coming from the full moon through the high window; that buzz was the buzz of the TV on standby; that warmth was because of the hand stroking his stomach, that-  
Johnny was suddenly considerably more awake. He glanced to his left, and contrary to before, his bandmate had managed to sleepily curl up to Johnny, and the soft breaths against his neck were from the head nestled into his collarbone, and there were legs tangled in his own, and yes, there was a hand running up and down his side and caressing his midriff, and there was another hand sonewhere in Johnny's hair. He froze, although he was somewhat trapped regardless, but his heartbeat kept increasing, and he couldn't help but whimper as Moz's hand brushed his cold chest. He raised his head a few inches and looked down at the definitely sleeping figure, judging by the slow breaths and closed eyes and peaceful, content expression. Johnny couldn't help but simply lie and take it in for a small while - until he accidentally and loudly squeaked, prompted by a hand drifting too far below his navel. Across the room, Andy sat up, staring at Johnny, who shrugged with the only arm that wasn't glued underneath Morrissey, lifting his head as much as was possible without disturbing the hand gripping it. Andy's initial confusion turned to realisation and surprise, and he started laughing at the same time Johnny did. That woke Mike, whose reaction was the same, but Morrissey stayed sleeping. The jokes and expressions of incredulity bounced between the three until eventually, as Johnny dissolved into slightly delirious giggles, Morrissey jolted upright, the freeing of his right hand causing considerable hair-pulling, which Morrissey himself, at the point of waking, was too disorientated to notice. What he did notice was the trio's sheepish grins, and he looked around in a panic.  
'What's the matter?'  
'Uh. Nothing, we all just, woke up at the same time, I guess,' Andy offered, stifling laughter.  
Morrissey looked at him accusatorily and confused, mumbling 'Where am I? What time is it?'  
'We're in a hotel in London, and we've just played a gig, and it's 4AM,' Johnny replied, gazing up at him.   
'Oh....'Ought I was.. Somewh'else...' Morrissey mumbled again, seeming to fall asleep in the process of lying back down, facing away from Johnny and shuffling up to the wall. Well. Thanks.

Johnny was maybe woken up once more, by what sounded like the unmistakeable noise of Morrissey sobbing. Johnny was cold again, and felt, more than ever, alone.

Having the morning spare to relax before the tour continued, Johnny rose early, showering quickly and stepping, with too many layers of clothing, into frosty air. The streets were sparse and most shops were closed, fortunately; Johnny needed a stroll, and he needed to clear his head.

Of course, aside from the dizzying euphoria of having his dreams come true, and getting to realise them with three dear friends, Johnny's life had been tense since the start of The Smiths. He was bearing his soul, musically, to a partner who'd bear it right back, existing in a creative shared headspace - and yet, he never quite knew where he stood. Drawing lines between platonic and romantic bonds often seemed unncessary, but once Johnny found he could identify definite sexual attraction to Morrissey, and that didn't take long, a slight twinge of unease had crept into this otherwise blissful whirlwind. And, well, Johnny didn't have to look far to know it was unrequited - after all, Moz was 'somewh'else'. The most reliable solution was detoxing his lungs with 8AM frost and detoxing his conscience with self indulgent, introspective walks. So be it.

After half an hour of getting completely lost in the unfamiliar area, Johnny surrendered to the cold and snuck into the nearest chain café, ordering a white tea. What he really needed was a smoke, but that meant going back outside and betraying his now purple fingers. He sank into a chair in the café's back corner. 

Ten minutes or so found Johnny lost in the process of cooling down and drinking tea, but it was interrupted. A figure alighted next to him, gracefully but clearly tense. The figure proceeded to hunch forward, elbows protectively resting on hipbones, setting their own tea on the table. Johnny looked up, already knowing it was Morrissey.   
'Hello,' Johnny breathed.  
'Hm,' was the gritted response.  
'Wha's the matter?'  
'You know what the matter is.'  
'I....Uh, I really don't,' Johnny said, helplessly. Morrissey set his tea down jerkily and turned to face Johnny, cheeks almost glowing pink.  
'Why are you all ostracizing me? Sharing jokes? Concealing things from me? If I'm not wanted, I can leave,'  
'Whoa, wait, you mean that thing last night?'  
'...Absolutely,' Morrissey blushed deeper and returned to his tea.  
Johnny was still hurt by the incident. How dare he be used as a body pillow whilst Moz dreamt about.... Whoever the fuck he was dreaming about?  
'Y'know what Moz? Maybe if you didn't fucking grope people in their sleep, people wouldn't be laughing at you.'  
Morrissey stood up at that, stalking out of the shop. Johnny could make out tears. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Well, what had he expected Moz to do? Shower him with kisses in response?

Johnny sighed and drank the last of his tea, composing himself and breathing slowly. He didn't want to hurt Morrissey, but he didn't like being made out to be an enemy either. He had to handle this calmly.

He stood up slowly, head swimming with stress, and left the shop. Morrissey was a little way away, crying and looking extremely lost. He saw Johnny approaching, and turned away.  
'No. Shoo. You don't like me!'  
'Moz, you're being irrational, you're being paranoid, please lis-'  
'No! I'm leaving! What sort of a team unit are we if I'm out on a limb? What bond is it you all share that I can't understand? The bond that the rest of the h-human race share? Who am I? An alien? Why am I met only with hostility?'  
Johnny began to lose his cool again, still not having learnt how to cope with the melodrama.  
'Hostile? Moz, for one thing, you're talking bullshit, and I don't know, maybe I'm angry because you quite obviously don't give a shit about me - maybe I'm angry because you used me -' Johnny was more than shouting now, 'maybe I'm angry because I don't like getting smothered by you whilst you dream about someone else... Maybe I'm angry because I fucking love you!'

The last words hung in the air as the pair, now in close proximity, stared each other down. Morrissey looked reminiscent of a dying fish, and Johnny could've been crying too; he wasn't sure. He did know he wanted to die. Moz was clearly trying to calm himself, and after an age, he uttered 'W-What makes you think I was dreaming about someone else?'  
Johnny's heart, impossibly, was suddenly beating harder than before.  
'You said so....You said you thought you were somewhere else,'  
'Yes, someWHERE else,' Morrissey responded slowly, barely audible now, 'as in, not in a hotel room with our two other bandmates a few metres away,'  
'Oh,'  
'Oh,'  
Johnny was processing the words over and over in his head, trying to feel sure he'd read the situation right. Morrissey looked like he was doing the same, if he looked like he was doing anything at all, although from what Johnny had said, he should've been having considerably less difficulty. Johnny swallowed and dropped his gaze, searching for Moz's hands with his own, finding them and clasping them in icy fingers. He looked up again and began leaning in, eyes locked with Morrissey's, searching for allowance. Moz was still frozen. Johnny touched their lips together and Morrissey gasped, snapped back to reality - revived. He responded, pulling his and Johnny's hands up around his neck, and Johnny got the message, clasping and carressing the back of Morrissey's head whilst Morrissey mirrored his actions, the kiss becoming more open-mouthed. Johnny felt dizzy, as if he would pass out, but he couldn't pull away. He felt himself lose balance, his eyes already closed, and then one of Morrissey's hands on his back, easing him downwards as he helped them both sit down on the icy pavement. The ground stung but Johnny recognised the need for solid ground - just before he lolled his head onto Moz's shoulder and lost consciousness.


End file.
